When my mother asks how the world's treating me,
I reply ‘good’,
even if it’s not the truth.
It is as if the words are branded
at the back of my throat
and as much as I want them to go away,
they have become a part of me.
Forcing me to lie.
Of course,
I’ve never been good at lying
but certainly the only way to lie well, is to do it often.